Wrestling for love

Struggling with God
AND GOD SAW... stories of God seeing and acting in Hebrew Scripture
Genesis 32:9-13, 22-30; Mark 14:32-36


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We all probably have an idea in our heads

of what it means to wrestle with God.

Wrestling with God comes in various forms.

It might be emotional or psychological wrestling.

We feel alone. We feel abandoned. We feel confused.

We feel angry or betrayed.

And these emotions get all tangled up between us and God.

Our anger may be aimed directly at God,

because God did not come through

in the way we hoped or expected.

God did not fix the injustice.

Did not heal the brokenness.

Did not pull off a miracle.

Or maybe, just didn’t intervene when things were out of sorts.

So our hurt and disappointment takes the form of anger,

and we find ourselves wrestling, emotionally, with God.

Or, our wrestling might be intellectual wrestling.

We might be struggling with finding a theology that is coherent,

and works for us, intellectually.

So we think harder. Read more. Debate more.

We interact with other thinkers and wrestlers.

It’s a wrestling of the intellect,

trying to come to peace with thinking about God,

in a way that works for us.

Or, our wrestling might be deeply spiritual.

St. John of the Cross, almost 500 years ago,

wrote about the “dark night of the soul.”

That’s a phrase often used to describe what it is like

when God seems to go silent, or absent,

or to abandon us,

or when the spiritual core of our being

seems more like a black hole,

a vacuum, utterly empty.

It describes the spiritual state of the poet of many of our psalms.

It is what Jesus likely experienced on the cross

when he cried out,

“My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”

I think it would fair to characterize Jacob’s

nighttime wrestling match,

in any one, or all three of these ways.

As Jacob was about to meet his estranged brother Esau,

his relationship with God was probably also on the ropes.

But I want to suggest there was something else going on,

that was way more profound,

that had much greater import,

than Jacob trying to work out his fraught relationship

with God and with Esau.

_____________________

Before I jump into what I think it was,

I have to say something about the Narrative Lectionary.

Every year, we are given a selection of stories and readings

from the Hebrew scriptures to work through in the fall,

in narrative order,

from Genesis, through the Torah, the judges, the Kings,

the writings, and the prophets.

Not everything, just a sampling.

We get a different set of readings each year,

so over a 4-year period, we cover a lot of the Old Testament.

But we aren’t given any direction on how to read these stories,

how to tie them together,

or what overarching theme to give them.

It’s always up to us to look over the readings,

see what sticks out to us,

that might be a useful way to frame them.

And this year, I noticed something in nearly all these stories.

I noticed, how much God notices.

I saw a God who sees.

Hence, the graphic image we’re using this fall—

a deep space photo of the “Eye of God” Nebula,

or Helix Nebula.

And God seeing, is not just a casual seeing. It’s a deep looking.

When God created the universe,

and crowned creation with beings made in God’s image,

soon afterward these humans rebelled against God’s call,

and started going their own way.

From that time on, nearly all that happens in Hebrew scripture

is God looking deeply . . . with a longing gaze,

with love and affection,

noticing . . . what is happening with creation,

and especially with the humans God made,

and God sees, God notices, and God acts.

All in love.

There is an indisputable thread throughout the scriptures,

telling a story of the love of God for creation,

and the strong pull God has toward human beings.

God longs to be in a mutually loving relationship with us,

to restore what has been broken,

to recreate shalom,

to have deep communion.

I noticed how in most of these stories,

God was seeing something, and then acting on what God saw.

Always moving toward God’s beloved ones—

in response to their needs, their dilemmas,

in hope of reconciliation.

In Genesis 2, God saw the human was alone, and gave them a partner.

In Genesis 18, God saw Sarah and Abram were barren,

and gave them a child.

Later, we’ll hear stories where

God saw the misery of the enslaved Hebrews, and delivered them;

God found the people floundering in the wilderness,

and gave them Ten Words and a law that grounded them.

God saw the dysfunction of Saul’s dynasty,

and put David on the throne as Israel’s shepherd.

And many more.

And God saw . . . our theme for the next couple of months.

_____________________

So today,

God saw Jacob in the dark of the night.

God saw Jacob wrestling with his own demons,

of deception, of manipulation,

of estrangement from his twin brother.

God saw . . . and went toward Jacob.

Which brings us to this deeper way of reading this story.

This is not just a human being trying to work out

their own tangled relationship with God, and with a brother.

This is God fighting for connection and communion

with the human beings made in God’s image.

This is not a one-sided wrestling match—

which is the way we usually think about wrestling with God.

We usually think this is something completely internal with us.

We wrestle with our thoughts and feelings and intents toward God.

While God is the passive party,

just waiting for us to get things worked out within us.

But no, that is definitely not the struggle we have described for us

in Genesis 32.

This wrestling match is most definitely two-sided.

The writer even makes that point clear, when it says,

in the New International Readers’ Version,

“A man wrestled with him until morning.

The man saw that he couldn’t win.

So he touched the inside of Jacob’s hip.

[And] Jacob’s hip was twisted.”

Now, to be clear, we aren’t told the identity of “the man.”

Was it actually a man? a dream? an angel? was it God?

What we are told, it how Jacob saw the situation.

Jacob was the only one who could have told the story.

And in the story “the man” tells Jacob,

“You have wrestled with God and with people.

And you have won.”

And Jacob says, in response,

“I saw God face to face. But I’m still alive!”

So this story is framed as a wrestling match

between a human and God.

And it was a draw. A tie.

Actually, the God-figure admitted defeat.

“You have won,” he said.

So what do we make of this struggle with God?

Which one of the two wrestlers had more at stake?

had more invested in the fight?

Jacob’s life and safety was at risk.

He was about to face down his wealthy and heavily-armed

brother Esau, whom he had offended.

Jacob’s purpose in life was on the line,

because God had told him earlier of God’s plan

to bless many people through him.

But what did God have at stake?

God was wrestling to connect

with the beings created in God’s own image.

God was striving for communion

with God’s own beloved children.

God was wrestling for a love connection with the human race.

Wrestling for love.

God had taken a great risk.

God created humans that were deeply interwined with Godself,

then gave them free will,

the freedom to reject it all.

But that was the cost of love.

This wrestling match had God’s whole project on the line.

Jacob’s life path was moving quickly toward disconnection.

God saw.

So God approached in the night,

to fight for the connection God longed for.

God challenged Jacob.

And Jacob prevailed.

In a way.

In another way, God won.

God reconnected with Jacob.

God gave Jacob a blessing.

And God gave Jacob a permanent mark—

a twisted hip joint—

a reminder for life,

that God’s future and Jacob’s future were deeply intertwined.

So God’s end was achieved.

The communion was reestablished.

And Jacob’s end was achieved.

This struggle gave him the strength

to encounter his brother Esau, and be reconciled.

_____________________

There is good news in this story for us, too.

We may find ourselves wrestling with God.

Often.

And for prolonged periods of time.

This story reminds us the struggle is not one-sided.

God is wrestling for connection with us as well.

God has to wrestle, because of love.

Without love, God could just manipulate us,

and force the connection.

But instead, God wrestles.

God struggles to connect.

Because of love.

And for love.

Maybe you will find that encouraging,

in your own dark nights of the soul,

when you are wrestling internally.

Imagine God in the ring,

facing off with you,

longing to put you in a hold of love

that you will not find a way to break free of.

And that wrestling hold—

which at first you might struggle against,

you eventually lean into and accept.

And the hold is transformed into embrace.

Imagine a God who chooses to wrestle for love.

And now, let’s join together in words of confession . . .

one Loving God,

We confess we often fail to appreciate your persistent pursuit

of an intimate relationship with us, your beloved creation.

all Forgive us our self-centeredness.

one Wrestling God,

help us lean in to your hold of love.

Help us strengthen our own grip.

all Keep holding on to us, as we strive to hold on to you.

[silent reflection]

one God forgives us, loves us, and leaves us with a blessing.

We are marked for life.

—Phil Kniss, September 24, 2023

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Work is grace, and grace is work

Graceworks
LABOR DAY WEEKEND
Matthew 11:28-30; Ecclesiastes 1:2-6, 9; 5:18-20


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As you know, tomorrow is a holiday.

You know what a holiday is, don’t you?

A holy day. It has religious origins.

A holiday was intended to give workers a day off

so they could go to their place of worship

to perform their religious duties.

Obviously, that meaning is all but forgotten.

The Labor Day holiday began 140 years ago,

to highlight contributions of American workers.

It’s not a holy day in the church calendar.

But maybe it ought to be.

God cares a lot about work.

The first thing we learn about God in scripture

is that God is a worker.

In Genesis 1-2, God worked on the world,

with patience, attention, delight,

and took great pleasure in the end result.

God’s labor brought order out of chaos,

and brought life where there was no life.

Then God created human beings

gave them God’s own image and likeness,

and made them partners in labor.

We aren’t even two chapters into the Bible, before we know

God is a worker,

and human beings are called to mirror God’s work.

We are God’s collaborators, God’s co-laborers.

Our work is holy work.

So the church is late to the game on Labor Day.

We should have started it,

to celebrate the sacredness of labor,

before labor union leaders had to do it themselves.

_____________________

Now . . . Mennonites don’t really need a special holy day

to preach that it’s good to work.

We got that.

We didn’t invent the Protestant work ethic,

but we sure embraced it.

In some places, if people know only one thing about Mennonites,

it’s that they work hard,

they don’t flinch at a big dirty job,

like cleaning up after a disaster.

So . . . my goal today is not just to elevate work.

What I would like us to do,

is to think about the relationship between work and grace.

You might think these are unlikely partners.

For thousands of years,

Christians have debated the relative importance

of grace and works,

when it comes to our spiritual lives and salvation.

The New Testament kind of debates it, as well,

with Paul’s writings, and the book of James, for instance,

seeming to emphasize one over the other.

What I want us to think about this morning,

is whether these two concepts—work and grace—

actually belong on two opposite ends of a spectrum.

Or whether they are deeply intertwined with each other,

and impossible to separate.

Christians, over the years, have accused each other

of emphasizing one or the other too heavily.

Some groups get branded for believing in “works righteousness.”

We Mennonites have been accused of that,

not infrequently.

Other groups get criticized for preaching a “cheap grace.”

I suspect both critiques have some merit.

One can get out of balance, if we aren’t careful.

But really, a tug-of-war between work and grace,

is a completely unnecessary conflict.

We need a different metaphor.

There’s not some sweet spot in the middle of a spectrum,

where we find perfect balance between grace and work.

This is a false separation.

We cannot separate work and grace,

Work is grace, and grace is work.

because they’re woven into the same cloth.

One is the warp. The other woof.

Together, they are the Gospel.

In fact, why don’t we just make them one word?

Let’s call it “graceworks.”

Graceworks is God’s free and unmerited grace

that makes is possible to join with God in our work.

Graceworks is God’s abundant grace that gives work meaning.

Graceworks is God’s invitation

to work for the good of God’s kingdom.

Graceworks is working for peace, for justice,

for healing, for reconciliation,

and for the salvation of ourselves and the world,

which is a high privilege

to which God has called us by grace.

It is God’s gift of grace that we are invited to work alongside God,

as actual co-laborers.

We learn about graceworks in the opening pages of scripture—

the Creation story.

And it keeps showing up all the way through scripture.

Did you hear it this morning in Ecclesiastes?

In chapter 1, at first hearing,

you might think Ecclesiastes is despairing about

the uselessness of human labor.

“What do people gain from all the toil

     at which they toil under the sun?

A generation goes, and a generation comes . . .

The sun rises and the sun goes down . . .

there is nothing new under the sun.”

People work hard, but someone else benefits.

But then something changes in chapter 5.

Is it a change of heart?

Or is the poet playing with us, playing with language,

giving us the both/and of work and grace?

Ecclesiastes 5:18, hear this . . .

“This is a good thing . . .

it is fitting to eat and drink and find enjoyment

in all the toil with which one toils under the sun

in the few days of life God gives us . . .

[All who] accept their lot and find enjoyment in their toil—

this is the gift [or grace] of God.

They will hardly think about the shortness of their lives,

because God keeps them occupied with the joy of their hearts.”

Even this famously cynical poet, freely admits,

work is a grace of God.

To be able to be occupied with the joy of our hearts,

to have meaningful toil,

is the gift of a gracious God.

It’s graceworks.

And Jesus spoke of graceworks.

In his immortal words,

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens.

Take my yoke upon you . . .

I am gentle . . . you will find rest for your souls.

For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

An easy yoke.

A light burden.

Gracework.

Walking with Jesus is still work.

There is a burden involved.

But this is an undertaking of grace.

The burden is lightened by the lavish grace of God.

_____________________

God’s grace is abundant and unsparing.

But it is not, strictly speaking, a one-way transaction.

Receiving God’s grace is essential to complete it.

To say God’s grace is lavish and free

does not mean there are no expectations of us,

no discipline, no hard work, no repentance,

no painful transformation required.

Receiving God’s grace includes

a deliberate and sometimes difficult move on our part.

We place ourselves in a position

to receive the grace being offered.

The offering of grace is God’s move.

But receiving it is our work to do.

And it can be difficult work.

Even arduous.

But we are not alone in this work.

Graceworks is not private.

It’s personal, yes.

Each of us must receive it.

But it is not private.

Grace draws us into community.

We are a community of people living by God’s grace.

The grace we receive is a gift we share for the blessing of all.

Our work—digging soil,

building houses,

teaching students,

generating capital,

selling merchandise,

advancing science,

mowing grass,

visiting the sick,

preaching sermons,

our work is a response to God’s grace,

done in the service of God.

If we don’t see the work that we do—

whether paid or unpaid—

as contributing, in some small way,

to the reign of God on this earth,

then we ought to stop what we’re doing,

and find work that does.

Society may value some jobs more than others,

but God doesn’t look at it that way.

Every job—from ditch-digging to corporate decision-making—

is an opportunity to offer a gift to God.

We do it in the way we carry out our work,

in the manner we relate to our co-workers,

or even in what our work produces.

At its best, work is a worship-filled gift to God.

And gracework is a continual, everlasting cycle

of God’s grace enabling our work,

and our work returning to God as gift.

So let’s celebrate that!

First, with singing.

The hymn number is 526, but for now, just follow on the screen.

Because I want us to ponder the words we’re about to sing.

You are the God within life, present wheree’er we live,

closer than all our sighing, sustaining pow’r you give.

Inside our very bodies, you pump the blood of life;

rhythm in ev’ry heartbeat drums out the pulse of life.

There with us in the office; there when we’re tilling soil;

city, or town, or country, God joins us in our toil.

Hear how the ringing hammer joins with the keyboard’s clack—

echoes of God’s good labor, giving our answer back!

With us in joy and sorrow, you raise us when we fall;

you join us in our struggles, seeking the good of all.

With us as child and elder, through all of life’s brief course,

your love gives us our being, our center, and our source.

O God of earth and heaven, we serve you where we are.

We love you in all people, we praise you in your world!

Let’s sing together!

—Phil Kniss, September 3, 2023

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